No one can have less interest than I have in claiming poetical
privileges for the clergy; and no one, I believe, is more thoroughly
convinced that the standard which society prescribes for us, and to
which we ordinarily conform ourselves, instead of being too severe
and lofty, is far too secular and grovelling. But I apprehend the
limitations of this kind which are imposed upon us are themselves
exceedingly secular, betokening an entire misconception of the
nature of our work, proceeding from maxims and habits which tend to
make it utterly insignificant and abortive. If a man confines
himself to the utterance of his own experiences, those experiences
are likely to become every day more narrow and less real. If he
confines himself to the defence of certain propositions, he is sure
gradually to lose all sense of the connection between those
propositions and his own life, or the life of man. In either case
he becomes utterly ineffectual as a teacher. Those whose education
and character are different from his own, whose processes of mind
have therefore been different, are utterly unintelligible to him.
Even a cordial desire for sympathy is not able to break through the
prickly hedge of habits, notions, and technicalities which separates
them. Oftentimes the desire itself is extinguished in those who
ought to cherish it most, by the fear of meeting with something
portentous or dangerous. Nor can he defend a dogma better than he
communes with men; for he knows not that which attacks it. He
supposes it to be a set of book arguments, whereas it is something
lying very deep in the heart of the disputant, into which he has
never penetrated.

Hence there is a general complaint that we 'are ignorant of the
thoughts and feelings of our contemporaries'; most attribute this to